


To Offer

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Dominance, Ficlet, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Size Kink, Star Trek: Into Darkness, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel seeks some engineering advice from the new prisoner, but it’s offered at a cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Offer

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [L'offre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/888109) by [fleurcarine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurcarine/pseuds/fleurcarine)



> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He’s been in charge for a day and everything’s gone to hell. The warp core’s broken down, they’re at a fraction of their regular power, and who knows how long they’ll even have that. He’s been scrambling away like a maniac for what feels like several hours, but the real time could be anything. He feels like he wouldn’t even recognize the digits on a simple clock right now with the massive equations fluttering through his head. 

He’s walking to the brig before he even knows it—a wild, crazy idea that he shouldn’t even consider but apparently already has—and then his nerves are getting him, but he’s walking anyway. He passes the guards outside with a nod, genuinely surprised when they let him in. The captain always takes insane risks; isn’t it alright if he follows? (Maybe he’s spent too long in Captain Kirk’s crew—the recklessness is rubbing off.)

He’ll know if it’s sabotage. If he gets bad advice, he’ll surely know it. He’s licking his lips nervously. As he approaches the only occupied cell, the handsome man inside watches him curiously, asking before he’s finished coming over, “Who are you?”

Pavel hesitates a few meters away, frozen by the simple question. Then he stutters out, “P... Pavel Che-chekov.” Then he clears his throat and corrects, “Acting chief engineering officer Pavel Chekow. _Chekov._ ” (Does he even normally stutter there? This isn’t going to go well.)

But when the man nods him closer, Pavel’s feet move all on their own, right up to the barrier. The man stands up and steps over, sizing Pavel up. He’s significantly taller than Pavel is, with much broader shoulders and enthralling eyes. His dark hair is messy, as though he’s just rolled out of bed, but otherwise, he’s pristine, with a too-tight shirt stretched across his strong chest and pants that leave little to the imagination. Clearing his throat and trying not to look down, Pavel says, “Mr. Harrison, I—”

“Khan,” the man immediately interrupts. His voice is deep and husky, and it makes something knot in Pavel’s stomach.

“I beg your pardon?” Pavel blinks.

“My name is Khan,” the man repeats, near growling. “You’ll all know it soon.”

“Ah,” Pavel coughs. “Khan. Wery well. I realize this is a bit... uh... unorthodox... but, I was hoping maybe you’d hawe some idea how—”

“To fix the warp core and power systems? Given what I’m apparently capable of?” Khan supplies. “Of course I do. It’s disappointing to know you don’t.”

Pavel wavers, frowning, and probably looking a bit ashamed. He’s already blushing, although that’s half for other reasons. (Khan’s... easily the most attractive fugitive Pavel’s ever seen.) To be fair, he’s only been on the job a day, and he’s hardly experienced or trained in this field. And everything’s happening so fast, and he’s hearing bits and pieces of rumours, but no one’s really telling him anything. It’s all quite a bit different than navigating and the Academy.

When Pavel fails to say anything, mostly because he can’t think of anything to say, Khan smirks. “But I suppose I could help you out. ...For a price.”

“A price?” He’d perked up with the offer, but now he’s back to frowning. “You’re on this ship too. If it goes down, you’ll die with us.”

“And how do you know I’ve got anything to lose? I think we both know what happens to me when I get back to Earth, anyway.”

Pavel says stronger than he feels, “I will _not_ betray my captain.” Even though he has a suspicion that Khan can be _very_ persuasive.

“Who said anything about your captain?” Khan chuckles. Then he takes another step forward, so that he’s scant millimeters from the barrier, looming down over Pavel like a monster out of a fairy tail. His mere presence takes Pavel’s breath away. Up close, he’s even more stunning. (He’s the tall, dark stranger from every one of Pavel’s late night fantasies, only _better_.) He half closes his eyes as he purrs, “A man has other needs, Mr. Chekov. At the moment, it’s you I’ll take...”

Pavel shivers all over. Is this really happening? He opens his mouth in disbelief but can’t decide on the words. Khan’s smirk grows. He whispers, “I like them young and intelligent, and despite your failings today, I can tell that you are that... we could be of use to each other...” Pavel knows a good liar when he sees one, but it doesn’t make the tone any less enticing.

Opening his dry mouth again, Pavel asks hoarsely, “What do you want?”

“Come in.” Khan backs up towards the far wall, eyes fixed on Pavel’s.

Pavel licks his lips nervously. He checks quickly over his shoulder, but the room’s clear. All available personnel are needed elsewhere. He should be elsewhere. But... but he needs to fix the ship, and if Khan can tell him how to do that... isn’t it his duty to save the ship, no matter the cost? How many lives will be lost if he doesn’t? Every second longer they spend in Klingon space is a risk.

Pavel slides the portal opener over to him, tapping the code into the side before his nerves get the better of him. Khan couldn’t possibly escape the brig, not with the guards outside, but he could easily get out of the cell. He could probably snap Pavel in half without much effort.

But he doesn’t. He stays against the back wall while Pavel impatiently steps through the opening hole, setting the code behind him to let his DNA out. It’s complicated to make a jail cell one-way for certain personnel, but it’s possible. He can figure it out. Now if only he could figure out the warp core...

Khan stays where he is, even after the barrier’s closed up. Pavel stands very stiffly, until Khan drawls, “Lift up your shirt.”

“What?” He wasn’t expecting that. Somehow, even though it might’ve been implied, Pavel wasn’t really expecting someone like Khan to... to...

Khan lifts an eyebrow, eyes slowly dragging back up to Pavel’s face. Blushing, Pavel tells himself, ‘think of the ship.’ (Because it’s easier than admitting he’s thinking about the gorgeous body in front of him.) He clutches the hem of his new red shirt and the black one under it, then anxiously rolls them up a few centimeters. 

Khan growls and steps forward—his legs are so long that two is all it takes—and he grabs Pavel and jerks him sideways, slamming him against the wall of the cell. Pavel gasps in surprise, fingers tight around his shirt, but Khan lets him go a second later. Khan doesn’t need to hold him down. The proximity’s enough. Pavel forces himself to stay on track and ask, “How do I fix the power?”

Khan doesn’t answer. He shoves Pavel’s shirts the rest of the way up his chest, leaving them rolled up to his armpits, running long fingers down his stomach. Then Khan ducks and opens his mouth, hot breath ghosting down Pavel’s skin. Pavel throws his head back on instinct, lips parting as Khan’s teeth brush his left nipple. Khan sucks it into his mouth, trapping it in a wet heat and rolling it around with his tongue. Pavel moans more wantonly than he’d care to admit. Khan sucks his nipple to hardness, then traces that skilled tongue over to the next one, and Pavel’s hands climb to Khan’s dark hair. He’s too timid to pull it—no sense inciting someone with teeth around one of his sensitive areas—but he wants to. Khan kisses a wet trail down his stomach next, stopping to lap at his bellybutton.

Pavel’s a mess already. Forget Starfleet. No, oh, _damnit_ , he’s supposed to get information, but... Khan’s long fingers slip into his pants, and all other thoughts go out the window. 

Khan doesn’t waste time with foreplay. He has his hand wrapped firmly around Pavel’s cock in no time, and he gets back to his feet, pumping it rhythmically and hard. His other hand toys with Pavel’s pink, pebbled nipples. At his full height again, he bites at Pavel’s cheek. Pavel knows he should look away, should grimace, should _something_ , but all he can do is gasp and moan. He’s never been jerked off by anyone half so powerful as this, and it’s intoxicating.

Khan purrs into his ear, “I’ll tell you how to fix your ship. But first you’ll give me the best blow job you’ve ever given, and then I’m going to fuck you like the inferior thing you are.”

That sounds... perfect. Pavel just nods. But if he gets on his knees, will that hand slip off his cock? Because he doesn’t ever, ever want that—it feels _so_ good. Can’t he just stay in here, like this, at least until he comes?

Khan shoves him down suddenly, pushing him to the floor by his hair. It hurts enough to make Pavel scream, but the real problem is the hand sliding out of his pants. He looks up at Khan, pleading for more. The look in Khan’s eyes is terrifying. For a moment, Pavel’s sure he’s going to be hit.

Instead, Khan grabs his shirt by the shoulders and jerks it off, tossing it across the cell. The cold air hits Pavel all at once, and he instinctively covers his chest. Then he feels like an idiot, and he watches in awe while Khan slowly brings down the zipper on his pants.

Khan pulls out a massive cock, thicker and longer than Pavel’s ever seen. It’s pink and reddening at the tip, already half hard and pulsing with need, covered in veins and looking like it’s done a fair few pushups. Pavel’s mouth has suddenly gone dry. He doesn’t even think he’ll be able to fit that monster inside him. 

Khan chuckles and jabs his hips forward, so the head of his cock hits Pavel between the eyes. Pavel scrunches them shut and hunches his shoulders—he’s simultaneously feeling turned on and ashamed, and it’s very confusing. Khan rubs his cock down Pavel’s nose, hissing, “Do you want to fix your ship or not?”

Pavel’s forces his lips open, and he tilts his head up to lick at the underside. Salty and bland, like most people’s skin, but maybe a little spicier. The musk is clouding his nostrils. They’ve barely even started, and Khan smells like pure sex. Pavel’s only able to pry his tongue off so he can start again, surging towards the base this time and licking all along it. He does several laps of the base to the tip, feeling headier every time, getting it nice and wet. Then he holds the head in his hand and sucks on the side like he’s sucking the butter off corn, turning his mouth around it and pressing as close as possible. 

“Finger yourself,” Khan chuckles, sounding still all together, while Pavel’s a mess. “Unless you want me to split your pretty ass apart when I fuck you.”

Pavel pulls off the side and back to the head so he can lift off his ass and tug his pants down his thighs. He keeps his own cock covered in the front—he has to; he’s nowhere near as big as this, and he doesn’t want to look foolish—and he spits in his palm. He reaches around and slips a few fingers down his crack, still trying to lick at the head of Khan’s cock. He kisses it when he finds his own hole, pressing one finger bluntly against it. He’s too impatient for this, but he knows he has to do it. He laps at the cock in front of him while he pistons his way inside, millimeter by millimeter. Slowly. But still parting the way and warming up, while his eyes stray up Khan’s hard body.

Khan’s smirking down at him, looking like some sort of sex god. Why couldn’t Khan be naked, too? It’s a shame to cover that broad chest up with a shirt. As Pavel licks and kisses, Khan opens his zipper the rest of the way, pulling out his heavy balls. Pavel has to stop to moan, and when Khan’s hand is gone, Pavel’s replaces it. He fondles both balls with one hand and pushes in a second finger with the other.

“Open your pretty mouth,” Khan orders. A humiliatingly pleasant jolt ricochets up Pavel’s spine at being called ‘pretty’ again by someone so gorgeous. He wants to obey of course, but he doesn’t want to miss his chance, so first he darts to quickly suck each of Khan’s balls into his mouth, one at a time, just savouring the taste. Then he settles back and opens his mouth as wide as it’ll go, tongue flat along the bottom. He doesn’t want to look up, because he doesn’t want to see either anger that he disobeyed or laughter at how desperate he’s being. Pavel’s cheeks are burning. 

Khan shoves his cock right into Pavel’s mouth, but it’s too big to go much farther in than the head. Pavel almost gags, but he struggles to adjust, willing himself to be good. (‘For the ship,’ he repeats to himself.) When he’s managed to get his breathing down, he tries to go further along it, taking a bit more in. He shivers when it hits the back of his throat. He’s deep-throated men before, but never anyone this... _huge_. 

Khan doesn’t seem to mind. He already knows that Pavel’s inferior, as he put it, and in a way, that’s sort of a relief. Less standards to live up to. So Pavel only does his best, getting it down a few centimeters and starting to suck as hard as he can.

He still hasn’t been able to make Khan moan, but he’ll take the quick inhaling of breath. When he glances up through his lashes, Khan’s looking right over his head, blankly and off into the distance. Khan puts either hand on Pavel’s cheek and starts stroking his hair, cock pulsing hungrily in Pavel’s mouth. It’s subtle, but it’s encouragement. Pavel moans heartily around his mouthful, pulling off just to push himself back on, sucking the whole time and tonguing the bottom. He’s now got three fingers deep in his ass, and it takes all the willpower he has not to touch his own cock—somehow, he feels like he shouldn’t do that without permission.

He doesn’t want to stop. It’s easily the best cock he’s ever tasted, and he wants to challenge himself, keep sucking until he can take it all. But he doesn’t get the chance—Khan pulls him off by the hair (Khan seems to have a thing for hair pulling) and then chucks Pavel over the bench on the side of the cell. Pavel’s arms go up just in time to stop his head from smashing into the curved wall. 

A firm hand slaps across his ass, making him yelp, and Khan sighs, “I suppose this will do.”

Pavel wants to say he’ll do his best, but he realizes how stupid that sounds and stops himself just in time. It hurts to keep looking over his shoulder, but as soon as he drops his head, something hard and blunt stabs up his ass—not thick enough to be Khan’s cock, but just as brutal and unforgiving. Pavel’s mouth is open wide, and he whimpers, gasping in pain. “You call this ready?” Khan chuckles. “Allow me to show you how it’s done.” His fingers—that must be what they are—part, spreading Pavel’s walls wide, reaching farther than Pavel ever could. They scissor him apart swiftly and efficiently, wider and wider, until Pavel thinks it’s impossible; any more and he’ll break. Is Khan going to fist him? Then again, Khan’s cock might feel like it.

They pull out before Pavel’s ready. He’s not wet enough, although at least he got a chance to coat Khan’s cock in saliva. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s barely left Earth and already he’s going to get fucked by a monster cock, on his knees in a jail cell.

His knees are shaking. It’s a good thing he’s draped over the bench—he wouldn’t be able to stay up otherwise. He makes a useless whining sound when he feels the slick tip of Khan’s cock at his entrance. He tries not to tense up. He tries to make his muscles relax. He squints one eye open to look over his shoulder, reminding himself that even though this is going to hurt, he’s going to get to ride _that thing_ : the sexiest man Pavel’s ever seen. 

And his voice. Oh, his _voice_. So deep, and powerful, and gorgeous. He leans over Pavel’s back and purrs, “Beg for my cock, little one.”

Pavel doesn’t miss a beat. “Please fuck me, oh please...” He presses his ass up into the bulbous tip behind him, whining like an Orion seductress, “Fuck me with your big cock, please, I want it so bad...” He feels incoherent. He’s terrified and so horny all at once, but his brain’s too foggy to figure out how to say it. When Khan doesn’t move, Pavel starts writhing pathetically beneath him, begging, “Please, please, tell me what to say, I’ll say anything you want, just fuck meee...”

Khan’s long fingers wrap around Pavel’s face, covering his mouth just in time. As soon as Khan slams inside, Pavel shrieks loud enough for them to hear him on the bridge. Fortunately, Khan’s palm keeps it in his mouth while the aftershocks ring through him, that huge cock surging in one painful centimeter at a time. It’s too big to go in all at once, but Khan makes a valiant effort, humping Pavel like a wolf. The second Khan lets go of Pavel’s mouth, Pavel’s panting like a dog. There’s a thin trail of saliva leaking out the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t have the wherewithal to wipe it off. His hands are clutching at the bench for dear life. Khan gets balls deep and thrusts into him, sliding him up the bench. 

“Mmm,” Khan purrs, stroking Pavel’s shuddering hips. It _burns_. It’s too big, but it’s also smashed against Pavel’s prostate, and it’s wracking his body with a confusing mix of pleasure. “You’re very tight, Mr. Chekov. Am I your first?”

Face redder than his discarded shirt, Pavel wants to nod. But he feels compelled to tell the truth, and he shakes his head against the bench. His curled hair is starting to stick to his forehead from sweat.

“Naughty boy,” Khan chuckles. “I’m just your first real man, then.”

Pavel nods for no apparent reason. He just feels compelled to do whatever Khan wants him to do, and in this case, it’s true: he’s never, ever been filled like this before. He’s still trying to catch his breath when Khan seems to decide it’s been long enough. He starts to pull out, and Pavel forces himself not to clench around it. Then it’s slamming back in, then out again, working up a relentless pace. Khan pounds him into the bench hard enough to bruise, and Pavel has no idea how he’s going to walk back to engineering. 

Being fucked by Khan is something akin to being ravaged by a werewolf, or so Pavel imagines. It’s brutal and horrible but utterly amazing all at once. He feels like his brains are literally getting fucked out of his skull. His cock isn’t able to stay hard long, because it keeps getting smashed too harshly into the bench, but it doesn’t matter. It’s rubbing his nipples raw. Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside him; it would figure Khan would be so skilled. It fills Pavel up until he’s sure it’s going to burst through his stomach. He’s a smart man, but he still irrationally feels like when Khan comes, it’ll shoot straight up the rest of his insides and trickle out his mouth. He’s sad he didn’t get to taste Khan’s cum in his mouth. He knows how awful it sounds. Maybe the warp core will malfunction again later, and he’ll need more advice, for another price...

For now, it’s all he can do to stay conscious. He’s being fucked right into oblivion. Slammed into over and over again, so hard, so strong. Khan’s fingers run tightly up his waist and hips, but he doesn’t care how much they scratch or bruise. Pavel has a feeling he’ll need to see Bones anyway, but right now it’s so, _so_ worth it. He’s never been fucked like this. It’s perfect. Amazing. Sheer bliss. It’s hard to breathe and his head’s foggy, and he wishes he were flipped around so he could beg Khan to kiss him. 

He almost loses it when Khan’s tongue swipes over the back of his ear. He shivers from anticipation alone—he wants to hear that voice, hear it say anything. Khan orders one word. “ _Come_.”

Pavel screams and explodes across the bench, ass spasming wildly around Khan’s cock, hands curling into fists. Khan keeps fucking him while Pavel screams himself hoarse, cheek pressed against the cold bench and the rest of him _burning_.

Khan’s hips keep going, until he roars a moment later, slamming Pavel forward and grinding him down. Pavel can feel Khan’s cock bursting inside him, filling him up with hot cum. The burn is exquisite, and he tries to press his ass back into it, greedily taking it all. If he hadn’t just come so incredibly much, he’d probably be hard again from Khan’s voice alone. 

Khan finishes with a final, animalistic grunt. And he slams into Pavel again, just for good measure, making Pavel jump and whimper. He doesn’t want Khan to pull out. He’s not sure how he’s going to stay awake, let alone get back to his feet. He’s ruined now; he’ll never find anyone else to fuck him this good. His brain’s been fucked out. This was a horrible idea. He won’t be able to fix anything. 

Khan hauls him to his feet by his neck. Pavel gasps and claws at the calloused fingers around him, but he’s too weak to stop it. He’s pushed over to the pile of his clothes, but he just stumbles about like a ragdoll. He’s still and limp while Khan dresses him, pulling his shirts back on and doing up his pants. Khan pulls him in by the waist and whispers a series of digits into his ear, with the corresponding chunks of code and equipment to plug them into.

Pavel’s eyes widen. Yes, that could work. He wouldn’t have even thought of it. Khan finishes his advice with, “...And when this is all over, if, by chance, I’m still in this cell, you’ll come back to see me.”

“Engineering will be fixed,” Pavel mumbles numbly.

“Not for engineering,” Khan hisses. 

Pavel licks his lips and nods. 

Then Khan spins him around and shoves him towards the door, slapping his ass while he goes.


End file.
